Novea
by 3-points-P
Summary: Heero's psychological problems pull Quatre and Trowa apart


Title: Novae  
Category: G-R  
Date Completed: Nov 16  
Archive: No  
Fandom & Pairings: Gundam Wing, TrowaxQuatre+Heero although depending how you read it you might say Heero+QuatrexTrowa :)  
Rating: R  
Notes: I do not own Gundam Wing and no matter how many fanfics I write I never will...I'm dealing with it do we have to rub it in? Special Thanks to HF for doting my 'i's and crossing my 't's and playing the snobbish English major for me  
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Though quiet in life he had actions that spoke in volumes-the hot kisses he melted into his lover's skin, the dominant pressure of his weight over him, the small possessive moments of his hands over the already exposed flesh making way to expose even more for him. Most of the time he went through his private art practice silently, an occasional grunt here and there for his lover's conscience, but he was mostly silent.

And it was an artwork what he did. It was not only his mode of expressing everything his mind would not let him speak, but his method of expressing everything that existed to him in the first place. These actions, not just the sexual ones were all he seemed to care to have.

He let his lover speak for both of them. He had such a gift for words after all, such a wonderful range of ways to reach people. From the soft exotic mews he made now, to the commanding confident tone he had known during battle, to the gentle concerned ways he spoke in all other times, to everything that got thrown in during their transitions...

So he was the their actions and his lover their voice.

"Trowa," his lover breathed in such a way that it was not an address as much as it was a daydream.

Trowa arched his sculpted shoulder and allowing his neck to crane naturally downward he kissed his way down the chest. The cotton layer was already sliding off of his arms as his unbuttoned shirt followed the curves of his muscles towards gravity's end.

Quatre freed his hand and brushed the shirt off Trowa's shoulder blades, and was pleased when the remnants fell around Trowa's waist. He caught Trowa's mouth in a deep kiss and discarded the rest of the shirt onto the floor.

"Mmmm...Trowa you taste like chocolate."

"Chocolate?"

Quatre nodded, tasting his lover's skin again to confirm it. "Not that candy stuff, deep, rich, slightly bitter chocolate."

Trowa grunted and resumed his work with soft nibbles on Quatre's neck.

Quatre laughed as his tongue tickled the skin, "you tasted like firewood last time. That hardy, warm scent, the intoxicating aroma of burning wood all over you..."

Subtle vibrations ran through Quatre's skin as Trowa growled through a kiss. He was growing impatient.

Quatre's eyes slid shut as he moaned. "I love it when you do that.."

Although Trowa was silent and Quatre was only moaning softly, everything seemed unbelievably loud in their world. Arousal had pushed the senses above their consciousness and even the slightest breath echoed in their minds.

This spell was shattered however, by the untimely ringing of the phone. There was silence and stillness for mere seconds as the phone rang once and then again and finally the realization of their broken mood. Trowa's frustrated arm moved for the phone-either to pick it up or to throw it across the room he hadn't decided yet-only to be caressed back into it's warm cocoon by Quatre's soft grasp. "Don't," he whispered. "Just let it ring Trowa."

A hesitation, then disregard for Quatre's tempting warning. He could not help it, he had only been a civilian for eight weeks, he was not used to having the luxury of avoiding communications. All communications were essential.

"Yes?"

Quatre fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt, buttoning them and then returning them to their unbuttoned state, as strange murmurs over the phone took hold of Trowa's attention. He could tell from his lover expression, or rather the lack of one, that perhaps the call was more important than he had first assumed, "What is it?" he whispered harshly. "Tell them to call back tomorrow morning."

"It's Heero," Trowa said with a slight unsteadiness in his voice.

Quatre hesitated, Heero wouldn't call if it wasn't a life or death matter right? "Tell him we're busy," he insisted.

"No, no it's not him personally...Heero's in the hospital."

The halls of the psych-ward echoed with nightmares from Quatre's most hideous thoughts-people screaming at invisible assailants, strange creatures lurking in every corner preying only on the weak that could see them, small impersonal rooms where one was sent to be forgotten by everyone who once knew you.

"Normally with some one Heero's age we'd put him in pediatrics...but I'm afraid that with his training and in his... state I fear he'd hurt the other children--or scare the crap out of them." Sally explained.

"Surely you don't think that Heero would ever hurt an innocent child?" Quatre asked.

Sally regarded him carefully for a moment, "you haven't seen him yet...Duo said the same thing and then came out of his room looking like he was about to throw up."

"Is he violent?" Trowa asked calmly.

"We've had no indication of violent behavior from him yet. On the contrary he's very docile," she answered. "But I think after you see him, you'll agree that he's very unstable...given his prior occupation, I thought it best to take as many precautions as possible without aggravating his condition."

Quatre sighed sadly, "But Heero--"

"Quatre," Sally said softly. "I have as much respect and admiration for Heero as you do, but we have to remember what he's capable of despite our sympathies."

With that she opened the door to Heero's room softly cooing, "Heero you have visitors."

Heero sat in the far corner of the white room drawing on a large easel, occasionally looking out the window lazily. As Sally voice reached his ears he turned slowly, not with rebellion but almost shyly, and stared at both Trowa and Quatre with large fear-filled blue eyes.

"It's okay Heero, these are your friends...you remember Trowa and Quatre right? They're not going to hurt you."

He nodded quickly, though his expression suggested he was not completely assured by Sally's convictions. Carefully he turned back to his work, stealing a small look back at the two friends at the door.

"If you need anything Heero, I'll be right outside okay honey? You know what to do right?"

He nodded again though he didn't turn around to look at her. Instead his toes seemed far more interesting, and perhaps less threatening.

Quatre looked up at Trowa who as usual was giving nothing away of his thoughts. He honestly didn't know how to begin with Heero. Without a doubt Duo had been cheerful with him and that had obviously not been effective, how should he approach him?

He took a few slow steps into the room, leaving Trowa behind, and whispered, "Heero?"

The boy in front of him cringed a bit then grabbed something off the easel and began drawing aggressively, as if it was his only means of defense.

As Quatre got closer, he realized that Heero was not drawing at all.

He was coloring.

With crayons.

"Heero?" he asked again.

A low grunt responded from the other end of the room where his usual surefooted lover was picking himself off the floor. Quatre regarded curiously and then realized that something had tripped him. They both looked towards the object that had run fearfully across the room.

Carefully Quatre picked up the small dark object, it was a small toy car.

And now that he thought about it, there were other toy cars scattered about the floor. Quatre stared at the toy utterly confused until Heero's timid voice broke the hard silence around them.

"That's mine."

"What happened to him?" Quatre asked. He could certainly understand Duo's reaction now, after seeing Heero he felt sick.

"He's regressed mentally and emotionally," Sally answered in a careful voice.

"Yes...but how? This just happened all of the sudden...there was no trigger?"

"...I've had a few doctors look him over, and their conclusion is that this is the real Heero Yuy.."

"What?"

"Quatre, Heero never developed psychologically at all, the war forced him to take certain mature actions...It cast an illusion around him that made us all think he was...well I use the term normal lightly. Everything that made him the Heero we knew is still there, he still has an above average IQ, he still works well with computers, but now that there's no reason to be the perfect soldier anymore..."

"He's slipped back," Trowa said softly.

She nodded, "he has the emotional capabilities of a five year old, and this naturally affects his mental focuses."

"...dear God," Quatre whispered softly. "Is there anything we can do? Anything at all?"

Sally shook her head, "I don't know...maybe one day...maybe if he has friends he'll begin to develop faster...but--"

"That's not likely is it?"

"No, I'm afraid not...we'll do everything we can for him."

Two days later Quatre managed to talk Duo into going back to see Heero. He was unable to talk Trowa into joining them, and allowed his lover the understanding he asked for. Trowa held the highest respect for Heero; Quatre couldn't even imagine how seeing him that way was effecting him.

The streets on colony cluster L1 were unusually cold at times. The air was as frigid as it was on Earth in the winter time, but without the crispness and clean scent it had on the ball of life. Instead the air here was stale, almost dead, as it hung in the bubble of space that was the space colony.

Duo sniffed, bundled himself tighter inside his layers of clothing and wiped his nose absentmindedly. "They're still working on the air filtration systems down here," he noted.

Quatre nodded, L1 had been the first area that man had set up space colonies. As a result the technology was old and in frequent need of repair, and sometimes-as with the air-produced noticeable quirks in the environment.

Colony L145670000, this particular colony, was one of the newer models in the cluster, but compared to the colonies in L5 or even his own L4 it was a primitive environment.

But it was also the closest to Earth, so the population of the cluster was mainly visitors, travelers, and those who catered to them. All other residents had moved out to areas of L3, L4, and L5.

"Duo..." Quatre tactfully began. "Do you think any less of Heero now?"

"Never," his companion whispered bitterly.

"But...what happened is disturbing isn't it?"

Duo's breath frosted as he let the moist hot exhale come out in a pained sigh. "He is my best friend...He's a jerk, he's masochistic, and he's too serious, but he's the best friend I've ever had..I respect him you know?"

"We all did," Quatre replied.

"And to see him like that...it scared the crap out of me. He was the best, Quatre...the best. God if that could happen to him, what will happen to the rest of us?"

"I don't know," Quatre admitted. "But he needs friends Duo...he needs our support."

"I know," Duo sighed.

They stood in front of the large hospital building hopelessly, their eyes roaming over the large letters that read "Preventers' Branch Hospital" out of habit. They both held their breath as if the building itself was the most frightening thing they'd ever seen, and then one of them-though Quatre could not recall whom-began moving inside

"That's my favorite," Heero pointed out the red car as they sat on the floor of his room.

"Why's that?" Quatre asked.

"Because when you bang it, like this," Heero's finger poked the front of the car. "It crunches up like that."

Indeed the car did make an interesting crash pose when hit in such a matter. The doors opened, the hood popped up, and the tiny seats inside went back just slightly. "But Heero how do you get it back?" he asked.

Heero smiled and showed that if one simply pulled on either side of the car it straighten. With a look of utter pride he sat the red car down and picked up a crayon. "Sally wants me to finish coloring," he told them.

Quatre watch Heero push himself up off the floor and move quickly back to his easel. "Sally must like your drawings then," he said softly as he stared off at Duo.

Duo had been moody lately, the kind of moody Quatre had only seen on him in the most painful moments of the war. The times when no personal retreat could help him forget the loss, and maybe the shame of wanting to forget the pain had something to do with it too. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

Duo shook his head, "it's so strange... he looks at me with those same eyes... talks about his toys with the same voice he used to threaten me with for Christ's sake! Quatre..."

"It's okay Duo...If you need to get some fresh air, go ahead."

"Thanks buddy," Duo said as he carefully got off the floor and quietly left the room.

Quatre approached Heero cautiously, not wanting to startle to boy or make him uncomfortable in any way. "What are you drawing Heero?" he asked.

"Duo doesn't like me anymore does he?" Heero asked.

Quatre breath rushed into his lungs sharply. He looked over to the sliver sky of the colony wondering how to explain the situation to Heero. "No Heero...he just...he's just been upset lately. Don't mind him."

"Why is he sad?" Heero asked as he picked up a black crayon.

"...he lost someone, someone he met during the war that was very important to him...we're all sad I guess."

Heero nodded and Quatre's vision wandered back to Heero's drawing. He watched Heero's firm, skilled hand making board streaks across the long sheet of paper-the way the black marks smeared up against the red, blue and white colors, so constant yet with the roughness and texture that the crayons.

Heero's drawing was a collection of surfaces, smooth, rounded, and utterly perfect within themselves. He could make out one main rounded pod like figure and two longer flattened forms flanking it, but other than that the drawing was vague. It seemed familiar.

"Heero," he tried again. "What are you drawing?"

"...Bird," he said.

"Bird," Quatre repeated. Then a chill gripped his spine as the shapes suddenly came together. There was an order to it, it was a image not just random colors. He step back just a little to get a better look at the overall picture.

There was no question, it was Wing Zero's neobird form.

"Heero...what kind of bird is that?" he asked trying his best to sound curious.

"My bird."

"Was it your pet?"

"No...It wasn't mine, I had a different one, but I use to fly on this one too. Don't you remember Kwatra? You used to fly on it too."

There was something horrible about remembering his Zero encounter like this. The memory had always been painful, he had almost lost Trowa and almost lost himself too, but in the light of Heero's innocence-that someone such a child now should have not only have known the incident but had been the focus of his wrath-it further shamed his own reasoning and made his decision even more unbearable. "Yes Heero I remember..."

"Kwatra?"

Quatre suddenly realized that Heero had stopped coloring and was staring up at him with a look a despair coating his cobalt eyes. "I never told you...but I'm sorry."

"For what Heero?"

"Not trying to help you, trying to hurt you instead."

Quatre forced himself to give Heero a reassuring smile, "That's all right Heero...you made it up to me."

Heero eyes flickered down to his shoes, "I know...but I shouldn't have--"

"No Heero don't be silly...what you did was right at the time," Quatre urged, stroking Heero hair tenderly. And although he would do this with any child it was somehow frightening to do it with Heero, it seemed so wrong.

"Kwatra?"

"Hmmm?"

"You know you're my favorite 1," he said softly.

"So how'd it go?" Trowa asked quietly. He resented having to speak, he hated having to start a conversation that he felt he had no reason other than curiosity and concern to start. Emotions were not reasons to converse, information was, and this conversation would provide him with no information he needed. But still...

He wanted to know. Every ounce of his mind wished that Quatre would just tell him, that he didn't have to admit an interest, because things would be easier that way.

"All right," his lover sighed. "Duo nearly freaked again...but I think Heero's comfortable with us now, he talked a lot today..."

"Oh?" it was the only thing he would let himself say to press Quatre for more. He wasn't used to being concerned or wanting to be concerned at the very least. He wasn't used to wanting to hear his lover speak. Quatre's thought were always just offered to him between moments of comfortable silence. And now that it wasn't, now that he had to ask about things he was left with this odd sense of wanting he couldn't quite figure out how to for fill.

The feeling of wanting to ask things and wanting to have some kind of communication was foreign and strange to him.

Quatre nodded, "Trowa...he remembers. I mean Sally never gave us any indication that he wouldn't...but he's so different I guess I was beginning to think of him as a different Heero Yuy..."

He sat down next to Trowa and snuggled up in his lap. Trowa's face adjusted to feelings he was quickly becoming addicted too, forming a slight reflective smile as he stroked Quatre's dirty hair.

"To think of that little boy as...as our Heero, makes me feel strange," Quatre said.

"I don't understand."

"--Almost guilty Trowa, the things that we did... We killed and destroyed and committed all sorts of horrible crimes for our ends. I was never bothered by those things before, but now when I think of doing all those things around a small child like Heero--"

"But Heero wasn't a child.." Trowa began.

"Not then, no...and you're right if we hadn't have done them Heero would have done them himself. But when I talk to him now and he mentions details about the war I keep thinking 'this kid went through the war...he was buried under the mask of the Heero we knew...but he was still there.' Trowa lots of children saw the horrors we committed, lots of children lost their parents and family at our hands...but for one to actually be involved...and so young too...

"We were nothing more than children, but at least we understood what was going on. I wonder...did Heero--"

"Heero understood what was needed of him," Trowa said firmly. "He understood better than we did, he would sacrifice anything for the good of the whole."

Quatre nodded and nuzzled Trowa's chin. "You're right...but I can't shake it. I'm so ashamed of myself."

"There's no reason to be, it serves no purpose."

Quatre mumbled a halfhearted agreement into Trowa's chest. "I promised him I bring him food tomorrow."

There was a flash of something across Trowa's face, but it was washed out with quick acceptance of the facts and replaced with the stillness that had preceded it.

"What?" Quatre asked his voice laden with confusion and concern.

Trowa's mouth slid open with a soft inhalation, but his tongue remained still as he tried to figure out what he was thinking. "We...were--is there something wrong with his food?"

It was low, pathetic even, and ironically probably also childish, but he couldn't bring himself to speak the tiny tinge of disappointment he felt when Quatre had talked about his plans. Mostly because he didn't really understand why he was disappointed, their plans for that day had been Quatre's idea and he had only silently agreed to them.

Quatre stared at him for a moment, his mouth opened so that Trowa could see the slight twisting of his tongue in its bed. He wore his brows unbalanced on his face, and then relaxed them as he settled on dealing with Trowa's question first. "He complained about the food.." Quatre explained. "Well not really complained, he's really quite a shy and sweet kid, he just mentioned it. And anyway I spent my fair share of time in the hospital, I know what the food is like--"

His sudden stop in the conversation startled Trowa back to attention. While Quatre had babbled on, Trowa's mind had slowly been dissecting thoughts, separating emotions from more coherent logic.

"Trowa is there something wrong?" Quatre asked.

"No," Trowa said, perhaps too firmly he noted as Quatre's eyes angled in suspicion.

"There is something bothering you..." Quatre said quietly. He didn't say it like he was hurt, more like he was considering this fact apathetically. "Trowa...we didn't have anything planned for tomorrow did we?"

"Yes we did," Trowa said, no trace of opinion either way entering his voice.

Quatre hand hit his forehead and stuck there. "Of course! I completely forgot about the movie...I'm sorry Trowa, I'm so worried about Heero that I completely forgot!!"

Trowa nodded, "don't worry about it."

Quatre snuggled closer to Trowa's chest, "no...don't say that it was wrong of me to make other plans without asking you first--"

"You shouldn't have to--"

"Of course I have to ask you! Trowa I wish you wouldn't see me as someone who just makes plans for you, I want your opinions and ideas too."

Against his usual habits he swallowed nervously and nodded. His expression had not changed but he was aware of the breech of stoicism, no matter how tiny it was.

"Why don't you come tomorrow?" Quatre suggested. "That way we can go see Heero, bring him some decent food and then go catch a late movie."

"That's not necessary."

"Please? I know seeing Heero must be horribly uncomfortable for you Trowa, but I think he wants to see you.."

Trowa said nothing.

"He keeps looking at me whenever he says your name, like I'm suppose to snap my fingers and you appear." He laughed, "he's a very sharp kid Trowa, he knows that you're uncomfortable with him and it makes him upset."

"..."

"Your roll."

The tired sound of dice knocking against one another. Two small identical cubes that will rarely produce the same answer. One will complement the other indefinitely and they will be brought together again and again for the purpose of this game.

Only to have the game cast them apart time and time again.

Maybe the two white cubes sort out each other. Maybe they were in love...

"Seven! Lucky seven!"

The sound of counting, the soft patting of a finger on the board as the numbers were chimed off, then...

"Agh!!! Not a shoot!!!"

A carefree laugh; "not so lucky now!"

And the dice were drawn together again after having been thrown apart just a few minutes ago and breaking his poor lover's hopes. The sound of them knocking shook through the hospital room, followed by a rewarding sound of them scattering.

More counting, a proud tapping on the game piece on the board and then...

"I win!!!"

A disappointed sigh staged to make the victory more sweet.

"Trowa?" Quatre asked suddenly. "Trowa, Heero's beating me!!!"

A playful whine, meant to get him involved without him having to think of a way to make himself involved. He said nothing, just continued watching. Not because he didn't want to play, but because he wasn't sure how to uphold this involvement without making a conscious effort to communicate.

"We can't let Heero conquer the vast world of Shoots 'n Ladders Trowa!!! We must stop him!!!" Words spoken not for him amusement but for that of his companion. Then a more sincere pleading, "Come on Trowa, come play a game with us."

He saw Heero look at him hopefully, a slight trace of sadness baiting him. "I don't know how.." he said.

He would resist because this situation made demands on him that he was unfamiliar with.

"We can teach you," Heero offered.

A long moment of silence. These things they were asking of him, they weren't orders but they weren't requests either, they were desires. They wanted to trade desires with him, to have him satisfy theirs by playing and to let them satisfy the ones he would have to speak. It was frightening really although he knew that he did this sort of thing quite often with Quatre, in a different sense at least. But then, he never had to tell Quatre what he wanted; they just acted.

"All right," he conceded.

He let them explain the simple game even though he had figured out how to play five minutes into the first round the two had played. Heero would explain the technical aspects of the game and Quatre would make sound effects, at which they both would laugh at.

Trowa watched Quatre laugh through a botched "shoot" sound, giggles breaking in waves over the lower sounds of Heero's giddy chuckle. He had never made Quatre laugh before, not really anyway.

Quatre would smile at him all the time, sometimes his face would light up with happiness when Trowa was near. He would laugh at incidents that Trowa was involved in, but he had never made Quatre laugh...

He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of a man with the emotional capacity of a five year old, but he couldn't stop the feeling. How could he be threatened by Quatre's affection for Heero?

In the back of his mind was this nagging little voice that told him that there was always the possibility that Heero would recover. There was no insurance that he would always be the sweet little five year old he was now. And if he recovered what would his intentions be? Would he want Quatre? Would he take Quatre away from him? More importantly, would Quatre want to be taken away?

Quatre was forgetting that, despite his psychology, Heero was 16 years old, by all standards a man already. His body had physical needs that his mind in this state did not understand. He understood only his affection towards 'Kwatra', and...

And Trowa was making himself sick.

Quatre nudged him, announcing his turn and slipped the dice in his hand. Trowa looked down at the small white cubes reluctantly, forcing them together with his fingers, but knowing that he will inevitably have to cast them apart. "Do I have to?" he asked Quatre.

Quatre shrugged, "okay Heero your turn then."

"No, no I'll go..." Trowa said quietly.

And he won the game with ruthless efficiency.

Weeks had passed, he realized. Weeks had left them as a blur under the same exact schedule, and neither one of them had noticed. It hadn't seemed like weeks, it had seemed like one huge day...a day with no escape for either one of them.

Quatre would work most of the day, raising early to eat breakfast and attempting every possible means of not waking Trowa. Then he would go visit Heero and Trowa would lie back on their bed staring at the ceiling, wishing he had never woken up.

He was selfish, he knew that, he and Duo were both uncomfortable with seeing Heero, no one had heard from Wufei, and Heero needed someone. But why did he have to take his someone? He had always been the channel for Quatre's affectionate healing side...

Where the hell was Relena? Or Zechs? Or Dr J. for Christ sake!!...No Dr. J was dead he reminded himself. Where were all the people who had known Heero so much better than his Quatre during the war? Where were the people who loved him?

Why did it have to be Quatre?

He heard the door opened and he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Quatre sat down on their bed silently making no indication that he was even aware of the situation that had been brewing for the last couple of weeks, let alone his opinion of it. Perhaps if he had sighed painfully or stared at Trowa for a moment or two Trowa wouldn't have interrupted the illusion he clutched to so desperately. He was asleep, it didn't matter to him whether Quatre loved him or not.

"It's late," he said simply startling his tired lover.

"Oh I'm sorry..did I wake you?" Quatre fumbled.

"No," Trowa admitted.

There was silence for a longer span of time then even Trowa was comfortable with. Quatre acted as if resting on the same bed with Trowa was impossible and stood in stillness trying to find some solution to the problem. Was it easier to ignore things and rest when Trowa was unconscious?

"Trowa..." Quatre began. "What's happening to us?"

His eyes opened fully for once. He turned his head and watched Quatre.

Quatre's pale skin was tinted blue in the early morning darkness, the soft glow of moonset cast rays of barely noticeable white light around his torso that looked suspiciously like wings-but they were not wings-and his soft watery eyes bled into sparkles on his cheeks. He stretched out his delicate hand to Trowa, and when he did not come Quatre climbed up on the bed in distress. "Trowa...are we falling apart?"

"I don't know," he conceded.

"I love you," Quatre offered.

He was met with no reply. It wasn't that Trowa didn't believe him, nor was it that he didn't return the feelings, it was that if gave Quatre the reply he wanted what would happen then? Quatre would probably snuggle close to him and kiss him and maybe in one last desperate emotional clench make love with him, but this would not solve the problem only pack more pain into the experience of their inevitable separation.

"Trowa?" he asked again, this time his voice cracking under the weight of his rejection.

"I know Quatre," Trowa said quietly. He put his around Quatre's waist and pulled him into his arms. For a while at least he could pretend that he was offering the boy some comfort by this action, but he knew it not to be true.

"You're leaving aren't you?" Quatre said finally.

"Yes,"

"Well this is a surprise," Sally commented cheerfully. "You've never come to see him alone."

Trowa nodded, not wishing to reveal to Sally that this visit was a matter of business and not comfort. He didn't think she'd understand completely, not the way Heero would at least. "How is he?"

"About the same... we're seeing some signs of ...how shall I put this? A more sophisticated diction? But that could be a result of his interaction with Quatre rather than actual development."

Trowa nodded and left her behind him is he walked down the deserted hallway and into the psych-ward.

There wasn't a second during the short time he had actually known Heero Yuy that he believed that he would end up here. Sure Duo use to joke about it all the time, but no one seriously believed it.

Trowa opened the door to Heero's room and out of instinct, peered in before he entered. There was nothing, the room was empty as far as his limited vision could deduce. He took a few calculated steps forward and called out "Heero?"

Heero Yuy's wide, impeccable eyes emerged first from the ersatz darkness beneath his bed. At first they seemed cunning and sharp, but perhaps this was only a memory of what once had graced his features as it quickly faded when his face was flooded with light. "Trowa!" he said happily as he pulled himself out from under his bed.

"What were you doing?" Trowa began.

Heero held up a small shiny object. His enthusiasm had him position the item far too close to Trowa's face, causing it to blur in his vision and his eyes to cross in the natural instinct to focus on it immediately. It was much like staring at one's own nose.

Trowa clasped Heero's wrist firmly, but took enough care not to startle him or make him feel threatened. He did remember what kind of pain Heero could inflict out a person when he felt it necessary. He moved the object away from his face a little so that he could see it.

Heero was holding up a small bottle cap. One of his amusements now, Trowa guessed.

He pitied Heero really. They all knew that when the war was over they would serve no purpose any longer-all save for Quatre who had his family's business to attend to-at least not on the scale they had in fighting. But this, being condemned to live as Heero, to be nothing, to have no one who expected anything from you and to have no one to expect anything from...it was heartbreaking.

He couldn't blamed his Quatre for being seduced by this.

"It fell under the bed," Heero explained. "They don't clean so good down there..." He gazed off to the far end of the room at his own comment as if comparing the condition of the bed to that area. His lids drooped under the weight of his long eyelashes as he clutched at the bottle cap like it was his last possession.

"Heero," Trowa said firmly.

Those soft, tender lids fluttered at the sound of their owner's name. He looked up at Trowa, their height difference suiting his expression of hesitation and nervousness. Even in those eyes coated with the litter of pain and confusion there was a hint of curiosity. It had taken his reborn innocence show the flawless grace of his archaic and noble features. They had been unsettling in there precision before and they now made him seem fragile in his perfection, but they were never lofty Trowa noted. All of this gave Heero his own kind of beauty.

"Is Kwatra with you?" he asked timidly. Maybe Heero considered Quatre like some kind of security blanket, or some protection from Trowa's sobriety.

"No," Trowa said.

"Oh,"

"Heero," he said again as he left his position towering over Heero both physically and emotionally and sat down in a nearby chair. "I have something I want to ask you."

_So be it, I'm your crowbar  
If thats what I am so far  
Until you get out of this mess  
_

Trowa had never understood the purpose behind producing artificial snow on a colony. They had to spend money to make it and then they had to spend more money to clear it out of the roads. He supposed that the ideal of snow was sort of a human inclination. Everyone wanted that one true memory of playing out among the magic of one perfect snow bank.

Trowa however, did not appreciate the cold that came attached to the snow. His face burned with every breeze as stray flakes of snow clung to the strands of his soft reddish brown hair.

_And I will pretend  
That I dont know of your sins  
Until you are ready to confess  
_

Looking up at the hotel that had called to him all night he suddenly felt very lost. He had been pulled in and given confidence by the sorrowful music flowing from a window on the third floor. He knew that he had made that music, he had not written it, he was not playing it, but he was the source from which that violin cried.

_But all the time, all the time  
I'll know, I'll know  
_

It had to be done. He had to speak eventually. Their arrangement had been nice, but it would not last forever, even if Quatre promised otherwise. No amount of swearing and oaths would make the comfort of silence permanent.

He opened the door to the hotel room they had gotten when they came down here to see Heero that first night feeling some unusual spite for the room itself. Maybe if this had been their apartment things wouldn't have happened this way.

"Quatre," he called gently.

_And you can use my skin  
To bury your secrets in  
And I will settle you down  
_

The music stopped short, and after few seconds his lover appeared in all his disarray in the main room. His eyes were not happy at the sight they beheld, but they were not hateful either. His entire form was laced with guilt and despair; Trowa's presence only made him cringe and study the polyurethane's gleam on the hardwood floors.

"Quatre," he said again.

_And at my own suggestion,  
I will ask no questions  
While I do my thing in the background_

Quatre's frail, tired eyes looked up at Trowa just in time to see him cross the distance between them and hold him tenderly as if asking for permission. "I love you," he whispered so softly that Quatre almost couldn't hear it.

_But all the time, all the time  
_

"I love you, I love you, I love you..." each time spoken it was followed by a soft unconfident kiss.

And finally, "I'm sorry...it's hard...but I'll try. I love you Quatre, I want to make you happy, I want to make you laugh, I want to comfort you when you cry, and cry because I'm not afraid too feel with you...I want to speak to you, not just show you how I feel...it's so hard..."

Quatre listened silently. His demeanor reflected so much unsteadiness; his eyes seemed like glass. his body still and his breath was caught in his throat. This was to him an allusion to a dozen fantasies that had plagued his mind from the moment Trowa left and haunted his dreams when he tried to push his pain aside for sleep. Finally he released his doubts, after testing the reality of things around him by wrapping his arms delicately around Trowa's neck and whispering...

_I know...  
_

-End-

Footnotes:   
1 I'm sure this sounds weird What I meant is that Heero respects Quatre, but a five year old would never say anything like that. It's not that they don't know the word or understand what it means, it that they would not think of their emotions in those terms. To kids the easiest way to communicate affection, respect, and/or admiration is in terms of favorites.

On the Title: Novae are dying stars...better known as a Nova. Since they have a maximum luminosity of -10 magnitudes, they are used to measure the distances of celestial bodies. In this sense, Heero a once brilliant star now dying out in the aftermath of the war measures the distance between Trowa and Quatre

Song lyrics by Fiona Apple


End file.
